O' Captain, My Captain
by Endril McMerlyn
Summary: COMPLETED! Jack gets a second chance at life, makes some decisions, and leaves memories behind. Very few people know what thoughts go on inside 'untouchable' Captain Jack's head during his worst times. Please read and review!
1. Of Friends and Foes

Disclaimer: I do not own anything at all related to Pirates of the Caribbean. I don't own Johnny Depp (sadly enough). So please, please don't sue me.

  


Part the First

  


Jack watched Barbossa's eyes as they glazed over, the face suddenly losing all of it's anger, all of it's rage. For a split second, Jack could see the face of his first mate staring back at him, the way it had been all those years ago. That was before the curse, before the mutiny, before.... well, back when life had been simple. Barbossa had been younger then. So had he, Jack mused. Much younger. Too young. Apparently Barbossa had thought so too, tired of working under a man decades younger than he. It hadn't mattered that Jack was a gifted sailor. He just didn't kill enough for them. Or had that been it after all? Jack had stopped trying to figure out reasons. It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was him and Barbossa, facing each other in the former first-mate's last moments, the gun still warm in his hand.

"I feel...cold," Barbossa said, his voice suddenly low, confused, but free. Jack felt relief flood through him as Barbossa fell to the ground, and yet there was a tinge of regret. He had been friends with this man once. He had trusted this man with his life before, had drank with him, shared a love of the sea with him. But that all changed that fateful day. Oh, Jack would never forget that, nor forgive. Barbossa had thrown away comradery for greed, and that could never be taken back. He had waited a long time to get his revenge, to pay Barbossa back for all those years of pain, years he didn't want to think back on, but always managed to come forth uncalled in dreams. Yet that one flicker of regret still tinged his heart. He turned his back to Barbossa's corpse. He would think on it no more. That time was past. The crew that had betrayed him, they were gone now. He had a new crew, a crew who respected him and who he respected in turn. It was time to start anew. He turned on his heel, wondering suddenly how long he had been standing there, staring at the body of his former first mate, trusted advisor, friend, brother of the sea. Will and Elizabeth were talking in the distance, he overheard some, but found it hard to focus much. He rummaged through the gold and jewels to occupy himself, as not to barge in.

When Elizabeth turned to walk back to the ship, to her commodore, he entered, coming up to Will's side. He leaned in slightly.

"If you were waiting for the opportune moment, lad, that was it." No more. He could not offer more. It was up to Will now. Once Jack had been young, but his luck in relationships hadn't much improved. He was no figure to look up to, whatever the rumours said. He was only human, as he had realised more than once in the last decade of uncertainty. He only wished he could be, somewhere deep inside.

Bootstrap in the past had been his hero to look up to, his best friend. Will was so much like his father, and the sting of loss was opened anew in Will's presence. During the bad times through all those years, Bootstrap had been his lifeboat, his sanity. Jack smirked slightly. Perhaps it hadn't been the loss of the pearl that had made him 'crazy,' but the loss of his friend, the thought that he had been betrayed by him (he might have expected it from Barbossa, but never William), the realization that Bootstrap was dead and gone. Aside from the Black Pearl, Bootstrap had been the one constant in his life. But once again, times were different now. Bootstrap wasn't here; he never would be. Jack had tried to come to terms with that long ago. Will was. Here, that is. Bootstrap, like Barbossa, was gone. 

"Now if you don't mind," he said, breaking his inner revelries, I would like it very much if you would drop me off at my ship!" he declared loudly. Forget Bootstrap, forget Barbossa, forget those ten long, weary years. Nothing mattered now, nothing but him and the Black Pearl. His ship, the only thing that remained from the good things in his past. That ship had been as much a part of Bootstrap, of Barbossa, as it was him, and it carried their memories. Now it was his. And he'd be damned if he ever let it out of his sight again. He almost smiled at the thought of being back on the sea, back on the Black Pearl, his home. Where he belonged. Or so he would have liked to believe.


	2. Eye of the Sparrow

Disclaimer: Once again, I have no claim to Pirates of the Caribbean the ride, the movie, or any of the character therein. I don't own any of the actors either, though really wouldn't mind having Johnny Depp as me own. 

Thanks: to all who reviewed! You have no idea how much it means to me!

Music: what else but dramatic pirate music?

  


Part the Second:

Jack stared out into the sea, only the sounds of the waves lapping up softly against the sides of their little boat heard in the night. The sea was black as ink, even in the full moonlight, and it was hard to tell where the sea ended and where the horizon began, even with the stars. The Black Pearl majestic form was nowhere to be seen, the comforting glow that usually emitted from the captains quarters no reflecting softly against the waves. Once again the one thing he had left in his life that was meaningful was gone. And this time, the 'infamous Captain Jack' couldn't pull of a miraculous feat of escape. No, not this time. Where had he to go? Nowhere but back to Port Royale, back to Commodore Norrington and his men, to the noose.

Jack wasn't afraid of death. He was a pirate. He had flirted with death for years, been closer to it than he had to life half the time. All pirates died someday, all humans for that matters. But Jack had always been ready for it. He had just never expected it to come this way. Not at the hands of some high-to-do military men, not in front of the eyes of hundreds of peasants. No, it wasn't even that that bothered him. It was that he had simply always planned on dying at sea. The Sea was his master and his mistress. He loved it more than his own life, was incomplete without it. If he died on a raid, in a battle, he knew he would be buried at sea by his crew. If the Sea deemed it was his time, then he would go peacefully, knowing he would forever rest where he belonged. 

Somehow Jack had always planned things that way. Knowing that he would once again know the feel of the Black Pearl's gentle rocking under him, the feel of her smooth wood under his hands as he guided Her through the ocean. He always thought that after ten long years of misery, he would once again get to know the harsh sun on his face, the salty Caribbean wind in his lungs, the sounds of the Pearl pushing through the tide, the creaking of the sails. The sea called to him, it was in his bones.

Quickly Jack shook his head and smiled bitterly inside. Maybe he WAS insane. He heard Elizabeth as if in the distance give a soft apology. He shook his head, thinking about the crew that sailed now somewhere in the open sea.

"They've done what's right by them," he said slowly, almost as if trying to convince himself more than Elizabeth, but knowing deep down it was true. "That's all that matters." They kept to the code, and Jack found himself wondering what he would have done if he were on the other side of the situation. Probably the same thing. Still, the knowledge that he would never see his crew, his friends, Gibbs, Anamaria, or the Black Pearl again made him ache inside. Angrily he pushed it back down. He had come to terms that all that silly self-pity ten years ago. He was a pirate, and that was that. Captain Jack Sparrow had finally met his end, it seemed, and perhaps it was time.

* * *

Jack leaned over the side of the _Interceptor, _knowing that soon Port Royale would loom over the horizon. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. The journey was a short one, hardly three days. Surprisingly, Jack had been allowed quite a bit of freedom on deck. Though the Commodore had kept a close eye on Jack, he roamed about as he pleased, though it didn't seem any of the Commodore's men were exactly happy out this. Jack kept just as wary of an eye on the Commodore as Norrington did on him. Not that he was complaining, but why did the Commodore not keep him locked in the Brig, where he could be sure to be out of trouble? Jack frowned. Surely not pity. Jack couldn't stand pity. Nobody pitied pirates. No pirate accepted pity. It was if somehow Norrington realised that Jack had given up. 

Had he given up, Jack wondered? He glanced around at the people moving around him, most acting as if he did not stand there. Jack liked it that way. After years of forcing attention on himself, living up to the stories, it was nice to have some peace and quiet. There was no need to push, not without having something to fight for. Once he had the Pearl to fight for. 

"Mr. Sparrow," a voice said suddenly from behind, startling Jack out of his thoughts, and he glared and turned around with his usual flair, putting on the show.

"_Captain_ Sparrow, if you please," he said with a faint grin, dark eyes fixed on the Commodore before him. "What can I do for you, Commodore?" Jack followed no authority, and the Commodore knew it, but Jack's voice held a faint brush of teasing. The Commodore remained unmoved, always a Commodore first, man second. Jack regarded the Commodore more carefully than he had before as Norrington glared at him. Jack wondered briefly what guise the Commodore wore.

"We are approaching Port Royale. You will have to be bound and kept in the jail until your hanging can be arranged. I'm expecting no trouble from you, you hear? No putting up dramatic fights." Norrington was devoid of emotion, all business. Jack smiled lightly

"You and I are alike, you know, Commodore James Norrington," he said. Jack immediately could see he had thrown the Commodore off. First names were for friends, for family, and Jack was neither to him. " What you see here and what you think I am is two very, very different things."

"I hardly think that you and I are in any way alike, Mr. Sparrow," Norrington began, but Jack quickly cut him off with a wave of his hand.

" _Captain _Sparrow, I must insist," Jack said. Then his demeanor changed, and his voice was low and serious. "Let me tell you something important." Jack leaned in even closer, and Norrington backed up with a nose wrinkle, either simply from being so close to a pirate, or from the rum left on Jack's breath from the night before. But hell, who was going to deny a condemned man on his last night of freedom his drink? 

"I'm not gonna sprout wings and fly away from your precious hanging," Jack said, suddenly serious, the usual glint of mischief gone. " Forget all you've heard about cunning Captain Jack Sparrow. That man is dead. He died years ago. If he ever lived at all. Remember, Commodore. I'm just a man, same as you. This isn't some bloody fairy-tale, savvy?" With that he walked off, the Commodore left staring after the sauntering character in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Jack let his hands be tied behind his back as the ship sailed into port. The Commodore stood watching from a distance, obviously still pondering his words from earlier that day. As he was walked to the edge of the boat, Jack took one last look out over the sea, one last glimpse of the light reflecting off the water, the salt on his skin, the warmth of the sun. He saw out of the corner or his eye a glimpse of Will, watching him. The face of Bootstrap Bill still watching over him. Jack turned his head as the Commodore took him and began to lead him off the boat. Turning towards Will, he gave one of his smiles. Whether they knew it or not, Will and Elizabeth didn't need him anymore. Today they would mourn, but their life would move on; nothing good or respectable could have come from his presence. But it didn't matter. Will stared back, something in his eyes Jack couldn't quite place. Regret? Sorrow? Fear? In the midst of it all, Jack winked. Then he towards his death, head high in the noonday sun, a suave grin on his face, and the crowd stared. For Jack, at that moment, a legend died. But to the eyes that saw him, a legend was reborn.

  



	3. For You the Bugle Trills

Disclaimer: The usual stuff. I don't own anything. I'm a university student, I can't AFFORD to own anything. I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, anyone in it, or Walt Whitman. So don't sue me. 

_Note & Thanks:_ to all those reviews. It's prolly one of my favourite parts of writing fanfics! Since this is my first, everyone being very supportive is very helpful! Anyhow, I can only hope you enjoy this next chapter, which, I must admit I had a major amount of trouble writing, probably since it is a transition chapter, and I wasn't sure how to... put things. But it's moving now! So enjoy– 

  


Part the Third:

  


If there was one thing that unnerved Jack, it was dry land. He didn't like how it always stayed the same under his feet, as opposed to the gentle rocking of the sea. It was strange, Jack mused, that this was the only thing he could think of on his dying day. He lay on the floor of his cell, looking up at the ceiling and at the little bit of sky he could see through the high window in the wall. The sun was rising, turning the sky a brilliant red.

"_Red sky at night, Sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning_." Who had first told him that, al those long years ago? Had it been his father? Jack didn't think so. He barely remembered his father. It must have been Bootstrap Bill, Jack figured. Bootstrap was always saying something strange like that, throwing in a piece of folk-lore here, a snippet of Sailor advice there. Jack shook his head. Why, after all these years, was he allowing himself to think about these things again? 

_Because you're going to die, Jack._ Jack closed his eyes, blocking out the red sky. He was having internal conversations with himself now. If he hadn't been crazy before, he certainly was now. Death. It was coming. He had long since been prepared to face it. He wasn't afraid. 

_Then why do you keep trying to convince yourself of it?_ Jack wondered. Sitting up, he brushed off his clothes. His weapons had been taken away. But he had no need for them anymore. That one shot he had been saving was used. It had served his purpose. And so, perhaps, had he.

"Jack?" A voice tentatively asked. As nonchalantly as possible, Jack turned around and slapped his patent grin upon his face. No need to make it more painful for the others than it already was. It was Will, of course. Jack's harsh smile softened a bit into a real one. 

"Well 'ello, Will," he said with a casual wave of his hand. "It is a lovely day out, is it not? Very lovely." Will was not amused. His face was drawn, his worried eyes fixed on Jack's face. As if memorising it, knowing that whatever he would say could do nothing to change Jack's mind. Jack, on the other hand, didn't need to memorise Will's face. Because he would never, ever forget the face of Bootstrap. It lingered in his memory. It was half blessing, half curse.

"How can you sit here and act like nothing is happening!" Will said angrily. "How can you lie back and just accept fate?!"

"The key word, dear William, being fate," Jack said with a wink. Will did not seem overly pleased with any of Jack's answers. Jack hated to let the boy down, but he had little choice. He had made up his mind. 

"Fate is what you make it!" Will insisted. Jack smiled inwardly. Will sounded so much like his father. In fact, Jack , he sounded very much like Jack himself when he had been younger. Before he had given up.

"Maybe sometimes," Jack said slowly. "But some things are meant to be. I've accepted my fate. You might accept it as well."

"But I could get you out of here! Like before!" Will insisted, pointing over to a bench by the wall. Jack shook his head.

"William, boy, we wouldn't get far. You know that. I know that." He went up to the bars of the cell that held him and looked into the face of William. The face of Bootstrap. "We've 'ad our fun, lad."

"But...." Will protested. Jack smiled and shook his head. The lad had become attached. And strangely enough, Jack had become attached as well. At first, it had simply been because he was Bootstrap's child, all he had left of his best friend. But he knew Will now as Will. Both had been his friends. He was lucky. Jack didn't easily become close to anyone, and didn't have many trustworthy friends. Bootstrap had been one of the them. Will was one too. He knew that this hard to come-by friendship was one thing he would miss. Not many people knew the real Jack. He was beginning to wonder, however, how much of the real Jack Will really did know after all.

"This isn't anyone's fault," Jack said. "Not yours, not mine, not even the Commodore's. Even he has to live by the rules. I have to live by my own rules."

"You're a pirate. Hang the rules," Will said. Jack smiled bitterly.

"I've spent my whole life running, Will. I'm tired of running." And with that, he patted Will's hand, an obvious dismissal. "Listen, boy. You've been good to me. We had our adventures. You're a good man, you'll make a good husband, and a good father. But most of all, you've been a good friend. But now you've done enough." Will was speechless. Seeing he could do nothing in this situation, he turned to leave.

"Bootstrap would've been proud of you, son." Jack said softly.

* 

They faced him towards the ocean. For that much, Jack was thankful. His last look at the world he was about to leave would be of the thing he loved most. Will had been upset that afternoon. He had all the right to be. Like Bootstrap, he was strong-headed and rash, never backing down. Jack had admired Bootstrap for those qualities, and he admired his son for the same. But their strengths were by far their weaknesses as well. The same could be said for himself, Jack thought.

Jack had said his goodbye. Whether Will had known it or not, in his own way, Jack had made his farewells. And with that goodbye, he could finally make the final goodbye to Bootstrap as well, the one he had never had a chance to say. While he had made peace with that years ago, that missed chance for thanks, for a final goodbye had nagged on his heart. Bootstrap had been his closest friend, and his life had been taken on Jack's behalf. Jack owed him something. 

Jack's hands were tied together, and for once he didn't fidget, didn't try to figure out the best way to get his way out of them. He let his hands rest, his fingers gently pressing into each other as if he were contemplating something. He felt the itchy rope being placed around his neck, and he wondered briefly if they would cover his eyes. 

"Jack Sparrow is sentenced to execution through hanging," a voice began.

"Captain, Jack Sparrow, Captain!" he insisted under his breath. But he wasn't a captain anymore. He had no crew, no ship. His eyes scanned over the crowd as the executioner went on, the voice in the far distance. The faces all blended together, wide-eyed, some filled with hate, but most filled with awe. Jack wondered briefly what they were so thrilled with. Did they see him? Or did they see a legend from some tale they heard at a tavern, a God instead of a man? How many people actually saw the condemned, terrified man before them?

Terrified. Had he really just thought that? He knew death awaited him. He had been running from it for ten years, and it had finally caught him. And he had gone willingly into its arms. He had told himself over and over again that he was not afraid to die. Death itself was not what frightened him. What, then? As much as he convinced himself he was not some coward, something still nagged. Internally he fought as his sentence continued. He laughed briefly to himself at the mention of impersonating a clergyman.

He had lived one hell of a life, that was for sure. All the things the executioner read were true, all brought back sights, sounds, and memories of the past. That had been before the mutiny, some even before he had really even been labeled a pirate. Most of the them had been with Bootstrap at his side. Even the past ten years of pure hell he now, in his last moments, looked back upon with fondness.

He saw in the distance Elizabeth watching, her eyes wide and sorrowful. Besides her was Commodore Norrington. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held some emotion Jack could not quite catch. He thought back to the private words he'd had with Norrington on the ship the day before. Had he said something that had struck a chord? While he felt he should feel a grudge towards Norrington, Jack respected the Commodore. He was just a man doing his job, after all, and Jack admired his sense of duty not only to his country but to himself. And Jack, watching those eyes, knew Norrington in his own strange way respected him too. Jack looked around for the one last familiar face he thought he might see, but Will was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, Jack thought, it was for the best. Drums began somewhere, and Jack turned quickly to see the sea once more as the ground dropped suddenly from beneath him.

_Perhaps now I can finally get some rest_ was Jack's thought as he fell. And his life flashed before his eyes........ 


	4. Rise Up and Hear the Bells

Disclaimer: Nothing has changed since the last chapter, despite my attempts to gain the rights to Johnny Depp. ^_^ I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean, the characters, actors, the sea, whatever. You got it, right? Or Walt Whitman. 

Note: Flashback time! I think I'm working out how I want to continue this. For the spelling errors, some of you may have noticed some drastic errors in chapter 3. My beta-reader hadn't had a chance to look over it yet, and some of my changes weren't saved when I transferred it to the web. Anyhow, if it bothered you (this would apply mostly to people who read it right after it had been posted, because if fixed it asap), lots of it is fixed, so you can go back and read it. Once again, THANK YOU for all the wonderful reviews! They encourage me to keep going! Anyhow, enjoy!

  
  
  


Part the Fourth: 

_And his life flashed before his eyes........ _

  


At first there were only faces, thousands of them, of people he had loved, people he had hated. They assaulted him, bits and pieces of his memories from the present merging with those of the past, leaving him frantically searching for reality within a dream. Then the faces seemed to slow, and now he could catch their features, linger upon them a little longer. As things slowed, voices appeared, as if traveling from a great distance, across time and space. Some belonged to others, some to him... it was hard to tell.

_"What do you mean they're dead! Where've they gone! I want to go with them!"_

"_The Sea is a dangerous mistriss, Jack. She can, and She will rule you. Once you go to the Sea, you can never turn back. Remember that, my boy._"

  


"_This compass belongs to you, Jack. Use it well. It will guide you...._"

" _I'm sorry, Jack, but you're not in charge anymore. This here is a mutiny, and I'm the new captain...._"

Jack, or whatever was left of him, as he had lost all sense of space, and it frightened him that he was beginning to forget to whom the voices and the faces belonged, which was which. He felt like he was going mad, the voices and the faces bombarding him from every which direction, shouting at him. There were too many. A weaker man might have simply let go at this point, but even so far gone, Jack Sparrow was still Jack Sparrow.

But then..... Time ceased to exist. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack knew he was dying... falling. He was no longer standing, all alone, on the gallows, awaiting his fate, but trapped in his mind as he prepared himself for death. As time ceased to exist, Jack was no longer Jack. He was no longer being hanged, dying... he became what he once had been, what he would become. No longer were there just flashes of this and that. He was drawn back into the past, except it was no longer his past... but his present, his future... no, time had no meaning now...

* * *

  


_ "Jack? Lad?" Jack turned, startled, to see who dared interrupt his dreaming. But his face relaxed when he saw the familiar friendly face looking at him, the same grin, wide brown eyes. Jack stood from his resting position against the railing of the ship. Bootstrap leaned casually next to him, looking out over the waves as if trying to see what Jack had been looking at. When he saw nothing, he glanced back over at the other man._

_ "I wish you wouldn't call me that," Jack said, watching Bootstrap closely._

_ "What? Jack?" Bootstrap asked, a slight smile crossing over his features, but still not looking at him. _

_ " No. 'Lad.' I am not a boy, William. I am hardly 5 years your junior," Jack said crossly, leaning back over the side of the boat, letting the wind catch his hair. Bootstrap laughed._

_ "But you are but a lad, dear Jack," he said. He turned to look at Jack, whose eyes were locked on the waves beneath them. "What exactly do you see out there, boy? What are you looking for?" Jack didn't answer; he didn't even reward him with that trademark grin the boy had become so famous for in only the past few months. Jack sighed, but did not turn. _

_ "One day I'm going to be Captain of this ship," he told Bootstrap suddenly, his voice calm and very much unlike his own. Bootstrap raised an eyebrow._

_ "No-one doubts it, boy," he said slowly. Nay, no-one did. Jack was young, that was true, but already he far surpassed many of his superiors in skill and knowledge when it came to sailing. Jack only months before had come there a fledgling, or so he had told them. And though it was true that Jack was only a little more than five years younger than he, Jack was much more a lad than he. He couldn't quite explain it... perhaps it was his newness to the life on the sea, a life alone. Jack would not say where he had come from, if he had any experience in sailing, but he was taken aboard anyhow. And the boy had gone far beyond even the Captain's expectations, and Jack knew it. The entire crew knew that one day Jack would go far. Already he had become close to the captain, and though it was rarely spoken of, Bootstrap had a feeling the Captain would trust Jack with his life before any other man on the ship. And yet Jack was forever silent. He was the youngest crew member aboard and already climbing in the ranks. Yet he did it silently, without boast or pride, seemingly hardly even caring. If there was one thing the boy had though, it was ambition._

_ He was a strange one. It was as if he had two different personalities sometimes. On some days, Jack would be wild and boisterous. He was mischievous and witty and sharp, flamboyant in actions, always a strange grin on his face. Other days, he was like now, quiet, distant, and no-one, not even Bootstrap could get into his head._

_ Bootstrap wondered about Jack sometimes. The younger man, hardly more than a boy, however he protested, was a strange one. No one knew anything about him or his past. Who his parents were. Why he was a pirate. Had he been raised such, or had he run away for the adventure... or had something driven him to it. Bootstrap had befriended the younger man immediately upon his arrival on their ship. He had been drawn to Jack's charisma, his skill, his wit, his mystery. And yet he knew nothing about Jack, not more than anyone else. Despite their closeness, brothers in all but blood, he was still in the dark. _

_ Jack smiled to himself. He planned on keeping it that way too. When he had followed his call to the sea, he had left his past behind him. Aye, there were good memories, but even those caused pain. He had stripped himself of all those who had once been a part of his life, stripped himself of them and his past forever. It hardly mattered anyhow. They only lived in his memory now, those people. They were gone, could not be brought back. Now all that Jack had was the Sea._

_ And Bootstrap, of course. He had, against his will, allowed himself to grow close to the older man during his short time on the ship. He was like the older brother he'd never had. But Jack was wary. He didn't make friends. Not close ones. It wasn't that he had a lack of people that he could have counted as friends if he wished, but he had pushed them all away once they pried too deep. He'd had those to love, and they were gone. They had left him. Abandoned him. Many of them against their will, but he was still alone, and suspicious of anyone that tried to get too close. He was afraid of being hurt._

_ But Bootstrap was different. He was content just to be Jack's friend. He never pried too deeply, knew when to pull away. He could see when Jack was ready to close, and Bootstrap knew when to shut up. He knew something was wrong, knew that there was something holding Jack back from opening up, from allowing himself to put his everything into the friendship. And he respected it. It had only been half a year. Jack was young still. He could be healed, he could be reached._

_ Jack looked out over the sea. He smelled the salt, and knew he could never be happy anywhere else. Jack suddenly turned to look at Bootstrap with those strange eyes of his. The one person he was allowing himself to trust, that maybe would allow him to begin to trust people around him again, to have faith in people once more._

_ "I'm going to be the captain of this ship, William," Jack said again, running his hand over the railing of the Black Pearl. He turned to face Bootstrap directly, eyes stern and serious, very unlike how William was used to seeing Jack's eyes, usually filled with mirth, even as isolated as he was._

_ " Would you follow me? Would you willingly serve under a Captain younger than thee?" _

_Bootstrap was a bit taken aback. He looked at the young man standing before him, his friend, his brother, his shipmate. He took in the proud stance, the strange dress, even for a pirate, the eyes that unnerved him. In the young man he saw the glint of greatness. _

_ "We're friends, Jack, you know that. Captain or not, I would follow you anywhere."_

  
  
  


*Well there you have it! Chapter 4 finished and ready to read! I realise some things I had to make assumptions of, since we know little. I'm still working out how far I want to carry the flashbacks. I may do one or two more chapters of parts of Jack's life I feel he would remember. Anyhow, I can only hope you enjoy it. Please review!* 

  


Quotes of the Night (Thanks, Chocolat): 

August: "Johnny Depp can contaminate my spirit anyday!"

Endril: "Well, Johnny Depp can fix the squeak in my door anytime he pleases!"


	5. And in My Hour of Darkness

Discalimer: I, of course, don't own much of anything. Not Pirates of the Caribbean, not the Beatles, no any of the characters associated with this film. I would love to though.

  


Note: This is really angsty. And I know that I'm always over-angsty, but lets just say there was an incident with some soup that was supposed to be my dinner, and ..... nevermind. It's much too painful. So I'm ashamed to admit that this story was inspired by my loss of my soup. So there. And Beatles songs. 

Anyway, on the more normal note, I wrote this story instead of doing my Anthropology paper. That's right, I did TWO chapters instead of the paper that was due the next day. Silly me. ^_^ But then the internet shut down and I couldn't post thsi anyway, and the paper got done. So thank you for everyone who continues to review! __

  


Edit: Thanks, Auggie, for reminding me to not to put the disclaimer in italics! And about these flashbacks, no worries. Chapter 5 is going to be the LAST flashback as far as I'm concerned. So you can all rest easy. Then again, maybe not ^_^I guess we'll all just have to wait to find out.__

  
  


_Part the Fifth:_

  


_ Hell was real, and Jack no longer doubt of that. He was living it. The night air was cool and breezy, the sky clear. Even at such a time, Jack found himself looking up at the stars out of habit. Always the stars were the same. Each season they moved on their path, always echoing the same patterns they had for millennia. The North Star shone as always, pointing the way. Jack looked to them now. They had always helped him before when he was lost, and they and never failed to bring him home. But now they held no answers, no advice on which way to turn. He was utterly alone._

_ Jack stood straight, surrounded by his crew, hands tied behind his back, stripped of all his pride. He held his head high as he could, trying not to show his true feelings. Outside he would play the hero, but inside he felt betrayed, and afraid. Jack Sparrow was never afraid. _

_ In the crowd, he would see the faces of his crew in the moonlight, the faces he had grown to know and love as if they were a family. He was their captain, and therefore it was his duty to protect them with his life. And yet here they were, turning on them. Greed won out over friendship. _

_ In the crowd, he saw one face that made him lower his eye contact, a face that threw him off of his act of bravery. It was the one face he could not deal looking at, not knowing what act it's owner had committed. But he had no choice as his first mate... no, his former first-mate Barbossa roughly lifted Jacks' chin to look out over the crew. _

_ "That's right, Jack, take a look at your precious crew. Look at each and every one of them. You thought you knew us, eh? Thought you had us all figured out? Take a look at the men you called "friend" for the past years, Jack. They don't need you anymore. We used your skill to get us where we need to go, your knowledge to get the information we needed, and now we're done with you." _

_ Bootstrap was there in the crowd. In the midst of what was happening, for some reason Bootstrap was all Jack could manage to focus on. Bootstrap had been his friend for years going on eternity. The person who, when Jack was young, had befriended him and drawn him out of his shell, making him into who he was today. The betrayal stung far beyond any pain he had ever felt. How could Bootstrap turn on him after all these years? Jack could have understood maybe how the others in the crew would turn on him just for some more gold, but never Bootstrap. _

_ "William!" Jack yelled. "William, why are you doing this!?" he finally had the courage to scream, seeing Bootstrap's face among his enemies proving too much to handle. Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he tried his best to hold them back. He would give Barbossa no satisfaction of seeing him ruined. But Bootstrap... how could he possibly do this to him? His very soul felt as if it were being ripped from his body. "William, you coward, answer me!" But Bootstrap only looked away, unable to hold the pain-filled gaze of his best friend. _

_ "You know what your problem is, Jack?" Barbossa said softly, running his knife over the lines of Jack's jaw. Jack didn't flinch, didn't pull back. He wouldn't give the older man that satisfaction. Instead he stared unblinkingly into the face of his former-first mate. But he wondered if even this emotional mask could hide the fear he felt climbing in his chest._ _His hands were tied behind his back, and he felt utterly helpless. Jack had NEVER felt utterly helpless, and he loathed it. "You're too soft-hearted," Barbossa continued._ _"Too trusting." The last word was spit in his face, and it hit Jack deeply. He had trusted too deeply. He had made the mistake of trusting Barbossa. But if one couldn't trust his own crew, what was left in the world? _

_ It hit deeper than it should have. Once, long ago, Bootstrap himself had said just the opposite. He had met Jack when he trusted no-one. Jack's past had made it impossible for him to trust others, to get close to anyone. But Bootstrap had changed all that. It had been Bootstrap who had helped open him, to see that while once he had been hurt, not everyone was looking to befriend him for the soul purpose of letting him down. It had been Bootstrap that encouraged him to trust. And so Jack had learned to see the best in people. When the crew had asked for more of the plunder, he had agreed. He wanted them to be happy, to be fair. It had all backfired now, and Bootstrap had all been part of it. _

_ Had it all been a lie? Had Bootstrap lied to him through all these years? Had the friendship been nothing more than pulling the wool over Jack's eyes, laughing at him silently behind his back? Jack, in a moment of sudden defiance, looked Bootstrap right in the eye. Though he tried to look menacing, he was sure the true question could be seen in his eyes. The fear in the window of the soul. Bootstrap saw the fear in the eyes of the supposedly fearless Jack Sparrow, the hurt, anger, and despair, and lowered his own eyes, unable to keep the contact. All Jack wanted was an explanation. A word that Bootstrap was no part of this, but none came. The pain suddenly filling Jack's chest was unbearable._

_ "Untie me at once, you miserable bastard. How dare you...." he tried. Barbossa gagged his mouth, shaking his head sadly, in mock regret. Then he leaned in very close to Jack._

" _I'm sorry, Jack, but you're not in charge anymore. This here is a mutiny, and I'm the new captain...._"

_ * * *_

  


_Jack struggled vainly against his bonds, but realised with a sick feeling in his stomach that it was hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless. He stood on the plank looking out over the water, black in the night, and at the island in the distance. He turned and looked back at the crew, watching silently, waiting. Barbossa smiled his disgusting smile, and put the captain's hat on his head. Then he bowed mockingly. _

_ "Farewell Captain Jack Sparrow," he said, drawing the word 'captain' out as long as he could. He handed Jack something in the darkness, and Jack reached out with his hobbled hands, grasping it with difficulty. It was his few belongings; his compass and a gun. The gun he didn't understand, but it was the compass that confused him. Barbossa had no clue the significance of what he had just handed the man, how well it only made the lesson harder. The compass had been a gift once. From Bootstrap, years ago. It didn't work, never pointed North, but Bootstrap had bid him to keep it. As a symbol of their friendship. What had Bootstrap said that warm day, after their Captain had died and Jack, still grieved, was granted the Pearl?_

"Fate may lead you off course now and again, Jack," Bootstrap had said gently, handing him the old compass. Jack opened it, and then looked up to meet Bootstrap's eyes in confusion.

"It doesn't work," he said dully. Bootstrap took it from Jack's hand and smiled.

"No, it doesn't point north, but our fates will lead us off course every once in awhile. Life is unexpected, Jack. Sometimes the easy route isn't always the right one."

"William, I'm not sure I understand," Jack said slowly.Bootstrap smiled that funny smile he had.

"Just take it, Jack. Maybe one day you'll understand."__

  


_ Jack had been young then. Bootstrap had lived on the sea longer than he, knew the lonely life of a sailor far better. Only years later did Jack understand why the compass was important._

_Of course now that was all gone. Jack looked up to see what Bootstrap's reaction was, and in the crowd Jack could see him, but he wasn't looking anymore. Jack knew he'd seen the compass. Jack wondered too if he remembered the promise he'd made to Jack all those years ago. How they had been brothers. Barbossa laughed, misunderstanding Jack's silence._

_ "Oh, Jack. You don't understand anything, do you? That island," he said with a point of his finger, "is where you're going. We're not going to kill you. No, it'd be far too easy. Too easy for you, that is. We want you to suffer, Jack Sparrow. We want you to die slowly, knowing that your crew betrayed you. And that gun has one single shot. Just one. And let me tell you something, young one, that one shot is going to look like salvation to the likes of you. You pathetic creature." _

_ "You will pay, Barbossa," Jack said through clenched teeth. Barbossa laughed. _

_ "If you plan to come back from the dead to haunt me, then by all means, do so, Sparrow! You're but a child, not meant for the responsibility of Captain of the pearl. No, once I was in line to be captain, wasn't I, Jack? I was first mate to your dear Captain Blake. But when he died, did I get what I deserved after years of toil? No, some mere _child _takes over. Captain Blake leaves the Pearl to a boy! Why you? You who had only been on a ship for under three years! You wormed your way into the Captain's favour and I was left to serve under some whelp!"_

_ "The Captain didn't trust you," Jack said softly, calmly, his voice hard and dangerous. "He wondered about your loyalty as first-mate. Captain Blake never trusted you, and he would never have let you take over in his place. I took pity on you, because I knew you loved your life under Captain Blake as a pirate, and I let you stay."_

_"You trust too much," Barbossa sneered with a glint in his eye. The knife went back to Jack's throat. " Too bad you have to die so young...," he said, his voice obviously indicating otherwise. "Die knowing you were betrayed, Jack." _

_ The Fearless Jack was filled with terror. If there was one thing he hated, it was feeling powerless, and he was filled with a terrible anger he had never known himself capable of. Jack was pushed to the end of the plank. Clutching his gun and compass close to him, he jumped. The last thing he saw was Bootstrap's face watching him._


	6. Voyage Closed and Done

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but me. Not Pirates of the Caribbean, nor any pirates at all. I don't own the actors or the music or the story lines or whatever else people these days can sue over! 

  


Note: hi everyone! I must admit it's been a long time... too long. And I apoligise for ignoring my task ^_^ Lets just say I've had an awful week here at University and am trying to get back on my feet. Also, I have been internally fighting myself on how to take this story through. No excuse, I know ^_^ I'll make it up to you, I hope. Oh, and thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I wish at the beginning I had begun to answer each individually as some do, but it's far too late for that now. Next fic, maybe. Anyhow, next installment! This is the end of the trip, everyone! *sniff* 

  


Part the Sixth: Voyage Closed and Done

  


Suddenly the memories began to slow, becoming short and shorter, and from somewhere in whatever conscience Jack had left, he wondered if he were dead....

  


_"I'm sorry, Jack, but Bootstrap is dead." Gibbs usually grinning face was drawn, his eyes sympathetic, looking at Jack in concern. But Jack remained impassive, and Gibbs, who, though he had not known Jack long, had become extremely close to the strange, unpredictable pirate, couldn't tell what was he was thinking. Those deep, dark, unreadable eyes should have shown pain, but they were glassy, revealing nothing. That was what scared Gibbs the most. This reaction was the last of what he had expected of Jack. Anger. Pain Gibbs had even half expected him to lash out at him, anyone, just to let some emotion show. But Jack remained as he was. The only indication he gave that he had heard was his hand had gone to grip the back of the chair, and he was holding it so tightly his knuckles were white. _

_ How could Bootstrap be dead? Jack felt a wave of emotions well inside him, confusing him. All these years he had assumed Bootstrap a traitor. That last glimpse he'd had of his friend's face as he was abandoned to his fate had haunted him. Hurt and guilt had over all those years turned into hatred and anger. Now it suddenly all fell away in a moment, leaving him light-headed and floundering for a grasp on reality. Bootstrap had died because he'd hated what they had done to HIM. Which meant HE was responsible for his death. In the back corner of his mind, he knew this wasn't true, but the guilt gnawed at him regardless, the death of his friend weighing heavily on his heart and mind. _

  


"Jack!" There was an uproar of voices. Something was going on, something had happened... 

  
  


_" My name is Will Turner," the boy said. Jack sat up slowly. It could not be, Bootstrap was dead..... He sat up slowly, trying not to show any emotion. Of _course _he was dead. What was he thinking. Was he as mad as people said he was, as he pretended to be? Pretending to be mad certainly had its advantages.... Nobody expected things of you. Bootstrap had been one of the few who understood him. This was not William Turner. William Turner was dead and gone from this world, and Jack was alone; without a crew, without a ship, without his best friend. This was his son. The son Bootstrap had fondly talked about with that far away look in his eye, the son that had almost stolen him from piracy. The son that had almost stolen Bootstrap away from Jack. In the end, the Sea's call had been too much for William Turner, and he had returned, but that son had always held a place in his heart. And while sometimes Jack felt that jealousy, that Bootstrap had family where Jack had none, he could not help but love the boy too... for what was precious to Bootstrap was precious to him. _

_ "William. Strong name...." he muttered, half under his breath. _

  


"It's that brash Turner!" someone cried. Jack could feel his senses return.... slowly. Sound slowly began to filter back in, but only later was he able to register the meanings of the sounds he heard, transfer them to words... On his freezing skin he suddenly felt the heat of the sun... the cool breeze of the Caribbean he had learned to love so well.... sensory overload sent him into wild confusion at first, and he struggled to get a grip on reality, on what was going on around him. The world to a man who has resigned himself willingly to death, can be a strange and confusing place... the sun is brighter, suddenly every little aspect of life means more than ever before, ever drop of rain, every smell brings a memory....

  


"_ I'm dying lad, there's no denying it now. We are pirates. We live death everyday, we bring it and we accept it. You understand that, boy, don't you? What I've taught you? " Jack nodded, angrily wiping away the tears from his face. He would be a man about it all. The last thing he needed right now, when he was going to lead men a great deal older than he, was to revert to childish ways. But seeing his captain, lying there like that, accepting death like that, was nearly too much._

_ "I understand, Captain," he muttered. His hand unconsciously gripped his Captain's tightly, and he nearly panicked as he could feel the life seeping out of him. Jack had seen death before, even delivered it a few times, but never like this. Never so personal. _

_ "You realise what comes now, don't you boy? What this has been leading up to, you whom I have taken under my wing as if my own son, with whom I would trust with my life more than any of these grown men I have known for decades?" _

_ "Aye," Jack said, not wishing to hear it. He had wished to come unto his own, but not like this, never like this._

_ "When I am gone, you will be Captain of the Pearl, boy." He smiled in his last moments as his eyes clouded over, and Jack held on tightly to the hand of the man who had taught him all he knew. "Take good care of 'er.... Jack me lad. Take good care of me Pearl." And with that he was gone. That night, he was buried at Sea and Jack was named Captain._

  


His feet were touching something. Tentatively, desperately, Jack found his balance. The pressure around his neck remained, but loosened. Eyes suddenly wide open as Jack finally came to his self and realised what was happening, that he was not dead. The rope suddenly fell from the gallows and Jack with it. The rush of air into his lungs was almost painful. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something screamed that he was in danger, that Will needed help....

_Now I owe my life to your son, William...._

  


Jack was free. He had escaped from Death's warm arms when he had been so far gone, ready to leave the world of pain and memories behind, and granted another chance. 

A grin lit up Jack's face. Back to his old self, he took in his surroundings at once. Chaos was everywhere– the perfect chance for escape. He slit the ropes from his wrists, grabbed the sword that had saved his life, and jumped to join the battle, reveling in the sunshine and every cool breath that entered his lungs like a child seeing the world for the first time.

He caught a glimpse of Elizabeth in the back. Commodore Norrington was leaping to action, but his heart did not seem in it. Jack caught his eyes for one brief moment. In it he saw that respect again. Jack could only hope his eyes reflected the same. He knew what Norrington was going to do. If not for Jack, for Elizabeth. He was being offered life. No, more than life. Freedom.

What had he told Will not so long ago.... it seemed like lifetimes away, and in a way, it was. A smile, not sarcastic, not insane, but a genuine smile crept onto the face of Jack for the first time in a very long time.

  


One did not simply ignore fate...

  
  
  
  


*Well folks, I do believe that's the end! Sorry it took so long, but maybe I can write another fic now! I really, really hope you enjoyed!* 

  
  


  
  
  



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